


Similarities and Differences

by coolangelsthesis



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: Anal Fingering, Biting, Doggy Style, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Haircuts, Hand Jobs, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2015-12-03
Packaged: 2018-05-03 02:00:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5272367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coolangelsthesis/pseuds/coolangelsthesis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Change is a natural part of life. When looking headfirst into it, it's natural to be nervous or uncertain. But sometimes, change is just what you need.<br/>In the new, you can find glimpses of the familiar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Similarities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to write a self-indulgent oneshot about Noiz and Aoba getting haircuts and it turned into something monstrous-- 10k of fluff and probably 4k of smut? My goodness.  
> Anyway, this was inspired by a doujinshi in an anthology where they had their hair cut and it was _so cute_ that I just had to write something. I hope you enjoy as much as I enjoyed writing it. :3
> 
> And thank you very much to [Lauren](http://archiveofourown.org/users/DancingwithDestiny) for beta'ing. <3

“Thank you very much!”

As he took a bag of groceries from his cashier, Aoba lowered his head and bowed. He caught himself before the gesture was too obvious, before the young woman smiling at him had noticed anything. He laughed at himself and took the other paper bags by their handles, heading out of the store as quickly as he could.

He had been living in Germany for four years now, but Aoba still caught himself falling into old habits he’d learned while living in Midorijima. Being part of two cultures now, he was caught between formal codes of conduct that clashed against each other.  
His natural instinct was more inclined to bow than to take somebody’s hand as a gesture of greeting. It was hard to resist the temptation to take off his shoes before entering somebody else’s home. And dining etiquette was a different challenge altogether—Noiz taught him what all the different sizes of spoons and forks meant and showed him how to use them properly, but he’d rather just use chopsticks or a simple fork if needed.

Not that anyone would find anything too strange about him bowing or saying “thank you for the meal” before dinner— he stuck out like a sore thumb already, thanks to his foreign accent and blue head of hair. But he found it funny how despite the years that had passed since he moved to Germany, Japan never truly left his heart.

Germany and Japan were completely different from one another. Different cultural-wise, different geographic-wise, different climate-wise. But they were still similar. Very similar.  
Both were filled with people, stopping and passing on their way to get groceries, to meet up with friends or a lover, to go to work. They both awoke to the same sun in the morning, and greeted the same moon in the evening.    
They both felt like home.

In Midorijima, Aoba saw almost everything there was to see— on his deliveries, he passed the same welcoming faces, the same run-down buildings held together with love and willpower. When he first visited Platinum Jail, he was in awe at how grand everything was: the sleek, modern design and the feats of mankind.  
But the sheer vastness of Noiz’s hometown made Platinum Jail pale in comparison. It wasn’t the height of modernism, but what it lacked it made up with sincerity. Tall skyscrapers that reached towards the heavens, reflecting the setting sun’s warm light; passing faces that he had never once seen before, smiling with unwarranted kindness...  
It was comforting, in a different way than the comfort his hometown brought him.

Aoba closed his eyes, drew in a deep breath, and smiled. Yes, this was home, too.

Wandering down streets lined with various stores was Aoba’s favorite way to spend a quiet afternoon. There he could put his German to good use—by speaking to others and learning how to read commonplace words and phrases.  
Not only that, but he loved looking into windows of stores: Various oddity stops, with interesting and sometimes creepy looking knick-knacks and trinkets set out on display. Bakeries where cooking bread wafted out onto the streets, warm and inviting, entrancing customers in. Coffee shops that buzzed with music and people. Toy stores large enough to be the culmination of a child’s fantasy. There was always something new happening somewhere.  
This city breathed excitement, its pulse drummed in the air, giving life to an entire playground of discovery.

He could explore for hours, wandering wherever it was his heart felt content to go and he would still find something he had never seen before.  
Even in the short venture home, he could enjoy basking in the small things. The sun’s warmth on his arms, hearty scent of food drifting from restaurants exciting his taste buds, a warm spring breeze playing with his hair, making it tickle his cheeks and his neck…

And catch in the corner of his mouth.  
With a note of disdain, he pulled the pieces of hair far away from his face.

His hair had been getting exceptionally long.

Most of the time, could tolerate it just fine, but after a point it became too much of a nuisance. Then, and only then, would Aoba take a pair of scissors to it, haphazardly hacking it back down to a reasonable length.  
Even if he no longer felt pain throughout his hair, he couldn’t shake off his old habits. The thought that cutting it would be mind-splittingly painful flitted through his mind whenever he even thought about getting it cut.  
And yet… Aoba couldn’t shake off this nagging feeling for the last couple months.

He wanted change.

He had only known what it was like to have long hair—even when he was a child and was mistaken for a girl more than a couple offhand times, his hair never had been above his shoulders.  
And he had gotten a bit tired of it. Summer was fast approaching, and having such a thick head of hair wasn’t too comfortable in the hottest and most agonizing of days. He could keep his hair in a ponytail, sure, but that was still heavy. And he couldn’t do that for too long, either; soon enough, his head start to hurt from pulling on his scalp too much.

So the only other reasonable option was to get it cut. Short. Really short.

He’d kept that idea floating around in the back of his mind for a while now. He jumped back and forth incessantly between doing it or not, unable to come to a concrete decision. He wanted to ask for Noiz’s opinion, but he could never think of the right moment when to ask.

Slowly the bundles of groceries in his arms grew heavier and heavier in his arms, straining his scrawny upper arms. He tugged them up in attempt to lighten the load and sighed.  
It was just an idea, anyway. Thinking about cutting his hair that short was daunting— it wasn’t something he could just rush into, do as a spur-of-the-moment thing and come home with a surprise for his boyfriend.  
Well, there _was_ that possibility, but he wasn’t that spontaneous. Not unless he had a little bit of a push.

Somewhere along his walk home, he’d taken the wrong turn on a street name he couldn’t distinguish from the next, and ended up going somewhere he hadn’t planned. He’d only realized it when he was certain he’d passed the same convenience store twice—one that he never passed when going home. With a frustrated sigh, he turned back around to retrace his steps. If he’d only brought Ren with him to keep his wandering eyes on track…

Then, as though a divinity or some higher being was listening to his trifles, just as he started considering the possibility of chopping all his hair off—he passed by a salon.  
The smell of shampoo and chemicals drifted out of its ajar door, both catching his attention and overwhelming his senses. He had never been inside a salon before; even when he accidentally bumped into Koujaku while he was working, it was always when he was working outdoors. Curious, he stopped dead in his tracks, taking a moment to peer inside the brightly lit space—all full seats, with men and women working over people’s hair. Scissors caught Aoba’s eye as they sliced through pieces of hair in clean lines. A faint tinge of pain in his scalp every time, feeling a ghostly remnant of pain.

He remained staring into the salon curiously for only a few moments, but those moments felt like they spanned on for minutes. He hadn’t even noticed he’d been staring until someone pulled him out of his trance by prodding him on the shoulder.  
It took Aoba all his might not to act too surprised—or send the bags of groceries falling to the ground.

“Er… can I help you, sir?” the person asked, smiling politely, yet mindedly. They must have been working there—they wore a black smock with the company’s logo on the front, and the overpowering scent of chemicals attacked Aoba’s eyes and nose.

It took him a couple times translating and retranslating in his own head before he could speak.  
“A-Ah, yes! I mean no… no thank you…” he said, laughing to try and hide his embarrassment. “I was… just looking. Uh… this place is new, right? I… I’ve never seen it before. I usually don’t go to this part of the city and—”

By fate or by lucky chance, before Aoba practically died from embarrassment, his ringtone blared loudly, giving him some excuse to hurry away. He excused himself with a wave of his hand and walked off, mentally noting how fast his own pace was.  
Once he had gained a good set of ground, Aoba glanced down at his Coil— Noiz. He quickly accepted it, narrowly avoided running into a lady and her child while trying to balance the bags of groceries to answer his Coil.

“Noiz?”  
“Where are you?” From the other side of the call, heard the sound of Noiz’s Allmate in the background—Ren, too, adding a line or two to the bunny cube’s rambling.  
“I went to get groceries an hour ago…” Aoba glanced at the time on his Coil, blinking in surprise. “An hour and a half ago, actually. Hah, I got a little bit lost. Are you at home?”  
“Yeah. I finished my work early, so there was no reason for me to be there.”

With a huffy tone and defenses on high, he added— “And I wanted to see you, anyway, but you weren’t here...”

Aoba wished he could have held back the dumb love-struck grin he wore when Noiz said that. The mental image of Noiz coming home expecting him to be there, yet coming up shorthanded was cute… _too_ cute.  
“It’s not like I left for good!” he said, laughing. “I’ll be home soon, okay? Then we can make dinner together.”  
“Mmhm. Get home safe.”

The call stopped with a soft click, and Aoba sighed happily to himself.  
… Maybe today was the day that he should finally ask for Noiz’s opinion. If he thought getting a haircut was a good idea, he’d consider it more. If he didn’t, he’d keep that in mind while making his decision.  
Noiz _was_ fascinated with his hair—playfully kissing the ends of it, running his hands through it after the most stressful of days. And Aoba enjoyed having his hair played with, it felt nice when Noiz brushed his hair or braided it. Was he ready to give up something he’d lived with for the entirety of his life? Could he so easily give up such a precious memento?

But at the same time, he couldn’t stop himself from being curious about the _what-if_.

Noiz was interested in trying new things, especially when it came to Aoba. Wouldn’t he like to know what he’d look like with short hair, too? It was just hair after all; if he looked terrible it would always grow out. Perhaps it’d take a couple years to get back to the length it was, but it’d still grow back nonetheless. It would be kind of interesting, in a way, to see his hair grow back, too.

Tonight, after dinner, he would ask. His opinion would help make up his mind.  
Holding onto that, along with a steady eagerness to see his boyfriend, Aoba hurried home.

  
*

He was always pleasantly surprised when he was the last one to arrive home. Noiz made a point to show how much he had missed him in his absence. Sometimes it was a bouquet of roses or a hungry look that beckoned him to the bedroom.  
This time it a showering of kisses, all over his cheeks and neck, and on the lips. Not that Aoba minded much at all—he’d missed Noiz, too. It was nice to be home, enveloped in Noiz’s arms and to have his arms tight around him. And yet, as much as he enjoyed it… he couldn’t savor in over-indulgence all the time.

Aoba playfully pushed Noiz out of a deep kiss. “Alright, alright, no more. Help me put the groceries away before they go bad.”  
With a dejected sigh, Noiz nodded, grabbing a bag of groceries Aoba had set on the ground when walking through the front doors. “Then what about afterwards?”  
“We have to make dinner! And no, before you ask, not then either. Last time, you almost made me burn dinner because you wouldn’t stop.”  
“Then don’t make something that will burn,” Noiz teased, setting a head of lettuce and carrots in the refrigerator. “Something like udon. That sounds nice.”

“That’s exactly what I had in mind,” Aoba said with a laugh, pulling out two packages of ready-made noodles, one in each hand. “Do you want to help?”  
“Of course.”

Together they continued putting away the groceries, then set up to prepare dinner. Aoba had pre-prepared stock waiting to be used, so all that was necessary was to cook vegetables and the meat, and soften the noodles. Since they had lived together, Noiz had become an excellent second-hand chef; the more that they cooked together, the better he’d become. A couple times he surprised Aoba by making their dinner entirely by himself, or awoke him with breakfast in bed. It was a stark difference to that young brat he first met, who only survived off of delivery pizza and pasta. It filled him with pride, to see just how much his boyfriend had grown from when they first met.

Dinner was spent peacefully, with the most of the time spent working on Aoba’s German. As much as classes and self-tutoring helped, only Noiz was patient enough to help him with tricky pronunciation, grammar, and spelling.    
After the dishes from dinner had been cleaned and put away, they sprawled out on the living room couch, battling against each other in a brawler game. Aoba was losing, miserably, but he kept his fighting spirit strong. Despite the playful glares and disappointed groans of agitation shared between them, it was peaceful, nice. A comfortable way to unwind after the bustle of the day.

“I won. Again,” Noiz said proudly, setting his controller down in his lap. Onscreen his character danced about victoriously and obnoxiously, adding salt to Aoba’s fresh wound.    
He stretched his arms across the back of the couch, playfully running his hand down Aoba’s neck. “Does the winner get to claim their prize?”  
“Not _yet,_ ” Aoba pouted, batting away Noiz’s hand. _Perverted brats never learn_. “Prizes aren’t claimed until the game is over, idiot.”  
Noiz smirked. “Whatever. Another round?”  
Aoba nodded, picking back up his controller with a prideful grin. “Prepare to lose!”

…  
But, yet again, he was the loser, and Noiz stood as the undefeated champion.  
He couldn’t help it—midway through the fight, he became sidetracked, too lost in his thoughts to properly focus on the battle onscreen. He kept thinking about turning and asking Noiz—but it wasn’t the most natural of segues from going to playing a video game to talking about haircuts.

But sitting here on the couch, relaxing and playing video games was the perfect opportunity to bring up the question. And yet… it still seemed so sudden, and what if he ended up getting caught on his own words midway through? Curse his indecisiveness.  
Still, he had to get to it sooner or later, before he dropped the idea entirely. And this moment was just as good a time as any.

Aoba opened his mouth to speak—instead of words coming out, he merely sighed. He set down his controller. Noiz hardened his gaze, brows drawn together with concern.  
“Is something wrong?” he asked.  
“Ah, it’s… well.” A brief moment of self-doubt crept into his mind. But he refused; there was no point in backing out. It was now or never. “I’ve had something I’ve been wanting to ask you for a while. I want your opinion.”  
“On what?”

“Well… I’ve always had this long, haven’t I?” He grabbed the long part of his hair and pushed it behind his shoulders. Noiz nodded, still looking intrigued and concerned. “I… I was wondering… what if I, uh… got it cut?”

“ _Cut_?” Noiz couldn’t hide the surprise in his voice or on his face. “How short?”  
Nervously fumbling, Aoba indicated with his fingers—just above his chin. He grabbed the hair past his shoulders and held it in place behind his head, leaving just the shorter layers. “L-Like… this?”  
Noiz’s gaze wavered ever-so-slightly, with a thoughtful look Aoba couldn’t entirely decipher. And yet, his eyes never strayed away from Aoba. He remained like that for a minute or two, entranced in his own thoughts.

Suddenly, Noiz reached out and ran his hands through the ends of Aoba’s hair. “It doesn’t hurt anymore?”  
Aoba shook his head. “Not at all.”  
“So you’ve been wanting to do this for a while.”  
“Eh? What makes you say that?”  
“You wouldn’t have asked me if you hadn’t made your mind up already. You just want to know what I’d prefer.” Noiz reached over, taking a long strand of hair in between his fingers. He brought it up to his lips and kissed it. “I love your hair as it is already. But… I think it would be interesting to see you with short hair.”

He released Aoba’s hair with a little sigh. “In the end, it’s your choice. It’s your hair. Just know that either way, I’ll love it.”  
How was he supposed to know what Noiz’s opinion was if his opinion was _either way it will look nice_? Next time, he'd be sure to ask for more specifics in his boyfriend's answer.

Then, before Aoba lost all hope, Noiz’s eyes lit up with the spark of an idea. “What if I cut my hair, too? It gets really hot in the summer, and it’s annoying. We can do it together.”  
“…Do… do you really want to do that?”

Noiz shrugged indifferently. “I don’t care either way. I’m not too attached to my hair like this, I think it’d be interesting to what it’d look like shorter. More professional.”  
His features hardened over momentarily, then he sighed. “My father said something that-- my hair like this isn’t professional enough. That it looks messy.”  
Aoba furrowed his brows together and frowned. A dull ache settled in his chest, as it always did when the conversation drifted towards Noiz’s parents.  
He brushed Noiz’s bangs to the side and kissed him on the forehead tenderly, lingering there for a couple seconds before speaking.

“I don’t think it’s mes— _that_ messy,” Aoba corrected himself. “But don’t do it for that reason alone. Like you said, it’s your choice. Don’t just go rushing into something because you think it’ll make your father happy… or just because you want to do it for me.”

Aoba gave Noiz’s appearance a once over before bringing his hands to Noiz’s hair, running them through the tousled mess. It’d been a while since he had gotten it trimmed, and it that time, it’d gotten pretty disheveled. It was comical in the mornings, seeing how many different ways his hair could go. He smiled softly, intentionally mussing it up so bits and pieces stood upright.  
“But… I think I’d like to see you with shorter hair, too. With the sides cut or something… i-it’d be handsome.”

“ _Handsome_ ,” Noiz repeated with a smile. “When you say that, then… yeah. We could even make a date of it.”  
“A… A date…” Aoba whispered to himself. Of course Noiz would say it like that. Always the quixotic, always trying to find ways to over indulge Aoba. “A salon isn’t the most romantic of settings…”  
Noiz’s face fell, his overly-romantic idea falling short. “You’re right. Nevermind then.”

He wiped the pout off his face and booted up his Coil. Fingers danced over the holographic keyboard in front of him, at speeds that still amazed Aoba. He tried to peer over his shoulder but Noiz just moved further away, keeping secretive. He continued typing, searching and skimming over various websites before satisfied.  
After a couple minutes of silence, Noiz looked up from his Coil long enough to speak.  
“Hmm… do you think a Friday or Saturday would be better?”  
“W-Wait, wait, wait…” Aoba leaned forward, eyeing the website Noiz had up. It was some website for a salon, all in German and difficult to read on the reverse side of the hologram screen. “You’re scheduling it already?”  
His boyfriend stared at him with a sullen look. “… Why not?”  
“Well, it’s… it’s just…”

He had wanted to wait until they went back to Midorijima—which wasn’t for another couple of months. His best friend was renowned for his mastery of hair, and he _constantly_ berated him with little jabs and side remarks about wanting to cut his hair. So why not go to him?

But that had its own issues. By the time they got there, Aoba might have changed his mind.  
Not only had that been holding him back, but Koujaku and Noiz still went at each other’s throats whenever they were in close proximity. It was like putting a wild cat and an untamed dog inside a room together and expecting the two to get along. Noiz get jealous of Koujaku touching his hair for so long. Not only that, but Aoba wasn’t certain the two of them could behave civilly enough for Koujaku to cut Noiz’s hair, let alone give the thought more than a simple once-over before refusing.  
So maybe his plan needed some revising; perhaps instead, Koujaku could add his own flair to his haircut when they visited, and see for himself whatever magic he held over hair. It wasn’t his ideal situation… but life wasn’t perfect.

“Well?” The husky sound of Noiz’s voice dragged Aoba back to reality. He shook his head with a petty smile.  
“Ah, never mind. It can wait...”  
“You wanted Koujaku to do it, right?” Noiz read his mind, holding back a look of distaste. He shrugged, tone shifting to something apathetic. “That’s fine, too. I guess. But you might change your mind by then.”  
“Y-Yeah, that’s what I was thinking, too. So it would just be better to do it here, right? Koujaku might be a little jealous, but…” Aoba rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sure he’ll understand. I should talk to him about it, though…”

He flopped into the couch with a groan.  
He _really_ wasn’t looking forward to that conversation.

  
*

“Really, Aoba?” Koujaku’s projection on the hologram screen stared at him in shock, in aghast. “You… are cutting your hair?”  
Aoba nodded, tearing his eyes away from his Coil screen. He couldn’t bear seeing the look on Koujaku’s face.  
He had been afraid of this call for this exact reason—he didn’t want to upset his best friend.

“It’s just… it’s going to get hot pretty soon, before we can come to Midorijima. I wanted you to do it but… I’m worried I may change my mind before we get there.”  
Koujaku remained silent; in fear, Aoba glanced back at his Coil screen. Koujaku’s expression was unreadable, like he was welling in a silent rage.  
Suddenly he sighed. “That’s… such a shock. You’ve never gotten it cut before and now, all of a sudden…”

His voice tapered off. Koujaku tore his own gaze away from the screen, going out of sight for a few moments. In the hazy image, Aoba saw he was lighting a cigarette, bringing it to his lips and drawing in deeply. A couple long drags passed in silence, before Koujaku spoke again.  
“Well… nobody will mistake you for a little girl now, right?” he said, accompanied by a grin that didn’t reach to his eyes.  
“H-Hey,” Aoba huffed, narrowing his eyes at the screen. He knew the falsity in that smile, but it hurt too much to bring it up. “I’m not doing for that! It gets hot here, you hippo!”  
“Heh.”

Koujaku’s smile faded slightly, turning into something gentler, more reserved. His voice was softer, too. “Hey, Aoba. Can I ask you something?”  
“What is it?”

“You… you’re still happy there, right? That punk… he treats you well, doesn’t he?”  
Aoba’s breath caught in his throat. His gaze flicked towards the bathroom, where Noiz was showering. He knew he had to be honest with him. If he wasn't, Koujaku would never believe him. It was best just to be honest, no matter how bad the truth may hurt.

He glanced back at his Coil screen and nodded.  
“Yeah, he does. Better than I would have ever asked for. And I’m really happy here, Koujaku. I miss Midorijima a lot, but… Germany is my home now. It’s my home with Noiz. I love being here… and I love him. Being with him makes me happy.”  
The light in Koujaku’s eyes softened considerably, whatever look of jealousy or anger or concern there tapering off. He leaned back a little, violet smoke escaping from his parted lips. His shoulders fell with a sigh. “… As long as you’re happy.”

Then, his expression shifted, offering another smile—a _genuine_ smile.  
“Well, it will be interesting to see what your hair looks like short. When you visit next, I can just touch up on whatever that weird German hairdresser does to it… ah… make sure they don’t do anything weird to it.”  
Aoba laughed. “I won’t!”

Their conversation dragged on much longer—talking about their lives in their respective cities, laughing, joking.  
Aoba knew it wasn’t going to be easy telling Koujaku his decision, but he was happy that he took it better than he had expected. It was hard for the both of them—hard for Aoba to admit the truth, and hard for Koujaku to hear it.

But nothing as meager as this would break them apart. That’s why he had been his best friend for so many years; even if they were countries apart, they could still talk and laugh just as they had been before he moved, before the collapse of Oval Tower, before Noiz briskly entered his life. It was welcome relief that no matter how much changed in his life, he still had Koujaku to rely on.

Eventually, Koujaku was dragged away by the demand of his job— impatient customers awaiting for the renowned lady-killer to grace them with his presence, he said, and Aoba rolled his eyes.  
As nighttime fell upon Germany, morning greeted Midorijima.

Aoba ended the call and fell back into bed, sighing peacefully. At the same time the bathroom door opened, a half-naked Noiz walking out with a towel about his waist, water droplets falling off his shoulders and his hair.

“Well?” he asked, lightly wringing his hair out with an extra towel. He knelt onto the bed beside Aoba. “How did it go?”  
“He took it well, a lot better than I was expecting.”  
“Really? Well, that’s good.”  
Aoba nodded. “Mhm. I’m glad… ah.”

Aoba’s heart skipped a beat. He hadn’t realized how close Noiz was, or how naked he was, either. The towel around his waist sheathed his lower half, but his skin was left entirely exposed, flushed a soft pink from his shower. And the scent of his shampoo—sweet when intermingled with his own scent—was tantalizing. He darted his eyes away, narrowly avoiding being caught staring. The blush growing across his cheeks intensified.  
This was bad. An intense desire flitted across his mind before he could stop himself; if he was this attracted to Noiz already, when he hadn’t done anything provocative, he couldn’t wait to see what difference a change in hairstyle made.

“Hey, Noiz.”  
The singsong of his voice forced Noiz’s attention away from drying his hair. He scooted a bit closer, parting his legs slightly in an effort to be coy. “A-About that prize… do you want to claim it now?”  
Noiz simply smirked, only needing to answer his question with a look alone. He eagerly unsheathed the towel around his waist and hovered over to Aoba. Droplets of water falling off his hair flicked Aoba’s cheeks and he laughed, wrapping his arms around Noiz’s shoulders and pulling him into an eager kiss.

He was certain that Noiz couldn’t wait to see that difference, either.

  
*

The next couple days rushed past quickly, thanks to his nervous excitement. On the day of, the day that Aoba had replayed in his head incessantly, he woke feeling restless, barely able to stop himself from pacing around the apartment in fear of staying still and dwelling too much on his thoughts.

But pacing was getting him nowhere, either. His nerves kept building up and building up until they reached their boiling point, threatening to spill out.

“This is it,” he bemoaned. “It’s… it’s really happening.”

With a definitive huff, Aoba planted his hands down on the bathroom counter and leaned in close to the mirror, so close his nose practically touched the surface.  
Frowning, he scrutinized the long strands of hair falling down across his face, falling into his eyes, sticking to his cheeks. He ran his hands from his scalp to his paler ends, wincing when his fingers caught on a tangled piece of hair.

That was one thing he wasn’t going to miss— the upkeep. Shorter hair was easier it was to take care of, right? He wouldn’t have to worry about brushing it every single night and figure out some way to keep it tapered on humid days. He could spend less time in the shower. He wouldn’t suffer from summer heat, he reminded himself.

Sighing, he pulled himself back again, carefully studying his entire reflection instead. As excited as he was by cutting it off, it terrified him too. What if it _did_ look bad, what would he do then? What if he missed some great opportunity by chopping his hair off— like what if it was too cold in the winter?

What if he’d just waited until they went to Midorijima next and let Koujaku do it?

Aoba shut his eyes and sighed. _No._ The nervous butterflies dancing about in his stomach were just that—nerves. Fear of change. An unhealthy disposition to worry about what could go wrong when faced with something new.  
It was one of his worst habits, and one that he had been slowly learning to overcome. With Noiz, every day presented itself with new opportunities, new things to see, and new things to experience. He loved that, he truly did… but some things, drastic changes, at least, always put him on edge.

Like when Noiz re-appeared after his three-month disappearance, when he asked Aoba to come with him to Germany. Aoba’s fear of leaving wasn’t about moving to a new country and living in an entirely different environment, it was the fear of not being good enough and the fear of putting what he already knew behind him.  
He had been learning how to overcome it, albeit slowly. Just as he encouraged Noiz to discover the world around him, Noiz did the same in return. Change wasn’t as frightening of a thing as he set it up to be.

In the end, despite his panicking and frayed nerves, everything was going to be perfectly fine. It was just hair, and he could still back out of it at any time if he really didn’t want to.  
Besides… wouldn’t he end up regretting it if he’d never taken the chance, changed his mind too early and never ventured into trying it again?

He heard the soft _pat-pat_ of tiny footsteps down the hallway, heading directly for the bathroom. Ren pushed the door open and popped his head in, staring at his owner.  
“Aoba, are you alright?” he asked, his dog ears drooping in sympathy. “Your emotional state is scattered all over the place. Has something happened?”  
Aoba smiled softly, bending down to scoop Ren into his arms. “Just a little nervous, is all.”

He ruffled up Ren’s hair and sighed. “But I’ll be alright. If I look terrible after I get my hair cut, you’ll tell me, won’t you?”  
Ren paused, cocking his head slightly. “I cannot guarantee that.”  
“Haha, I know, I know.”

Aoba hugged him closer to his chest. Even with just a few couple words, talking to Ren always calmed him down. His Allmate always knew what to do, restraining him before he ended up on a tangent.  
At this point, worrying wouldn’t do him any good. There was no use to it—all it was doing was making the situation worse.

Noiz would be home soon anyway, there was no time left to panic.    
And because Noiz was going to be home soon, he had other things he should be worrying about. Like what he should wear—in his mind, something too casual may make him think his haircut is too bland, but overly dressed may make it seem out-of-place.  
After a few minutes in silent contemplation in front of his closet, he decided on a white button-down shirt with tiny blue polka dots and a matching long-sleeved cardigan. A happy middle.

He resolved in spending the rest of his afternoon studying, refreshing his memory on German vocabulary in a salon.  
Soon later, he heard the sound of the front door unlocking, then the soft sound of Noiz’s shoes clicking against the floor resonating through the hallway.  
Aoba snapped his book shut, a natural grin springing on his face. “W-Welcome home!”

“Are you ready?” Noiz replied. His footsteps approached closer to their bedroom.  
“Yeah, yeah! Just one second.”

For a brief moment, Aoba thought of putting his hair up in a ponytail then caught himself, laughing. After today, there would be no reason for him to tie his hair up… it still didn’t feel real. It felt weird and foreign on the forefront of his mind, and on the tip of his tongue. But there was no time left to panic.  
He passed by Noiz on his way to the front door. He turned back around with his hands on his hips, taking in a short breath to calm himself.

“Let’s go,” he said, grinning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look forward to the next chapter-- more fluff, and some definite lewds~


	2. Differences

Aoba thought he had prepared himself for this, but his nerves told him otherwise.

He couldn’t stop biting into his lower lip, couldn’t stop clenching his fists together. He kept his head down, nearly running into passersby if his boyfriend hadn’t been there to stop him.  
Noiz tried to comfort him, tried to restate the same words of encouragement Aoba had been telling himself: _it’s going to be alright, if you really don’t want to do it you don’t have to, I’m here for you._ Hearing them again calmed him down, if just a little.

But that comfort dithered away in the matter of minutes. Sitting and waiting in the salon resurfaced all of his anxiety.  
The place radiated elegance and modern flair. Everyone that walked past him was stunning, hair ornate and pristine and chic. One look and it was obvious Aoba wasn't the regular type of person to end up here.

He couldn’t stop his legs from trembling, from leaning on the very edge of his seat, or gripping onto Noiz’s hand like a vice. He winced whenever he glanced towards the back of the salon, where stylists sliced through pieces of hair clean.

“Scary…” Aoba muttered under his breath. He glanced down at their interlocked hands—his knuckles were a vivid white. Slowly, he lifted his gaze to Noiz’s face. “People do this all the time?”  
“It’s not that scary,” he reassured, squeezing Aoba’s hand back. “You get used to it quickly. The people know what they’re doing.”  
“I know, but still…” His thoughts were too muddled together to put into words. Instead, he sighed.

“Ah…” Noiz’s brows raised with a sudden thought. “You’ve never had a real haircut, have you?”  
“I always did it myself, when it got too long. If anyone else would have done it, it’d hurt too much.” With his free hand, Aoba grabbed a long piece of hair and wound it tight around his finger. “But that’s not the case anymore. It’s still scary to think about it, though. That all this hair is going to be gone.”

“Do you want to keep some as a memento?” Noiz asked, a humorous lilt to his voice.

“W- _What_?!” Aoba gawked, feeling his face going red. “N… No! …You… you aren’t being serious, are you?”  
Noiz laughed dismissively, like he wasn’t entirely joking. Aoba would have tried to open his mouth to refute but the sound of someone calling his name caught his attention. A young woman with wildly colored hair had moved towards them, smiling amiably.

“Aoba? Wilhelm? Your appointments are ready.”

Dread pooled in the pit of Aoba’s stomach—he had already set himself up, but being directly faced with this, the exact thing he had been dwelling over for months, it was a shock to the nerves.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Noiz repeated, giving Aoba one last chance to back out. “If you’ve changed your mind, you can say so right now. But—”  
Aoba cut him off by shaking his head. He’d made up his mind a long time ago, all his nervous flightiness now was the aftereffect of being faced with such a huge and drastic change.  
“I’ll be fine!” he said, giving a large smile to hide his fear. “We came all this way, I’m not going to say no now.”

He had to stop being so afraid; instead of Noiz reminding him that it was going to be alright, he had to remind _himself_ that it was going to be alright.

Noiz gave him one final, wavering look of uncertainty before he believed him. He squeezed Aoba’s hand once more for reassurance.

The woman at the front counter watched on with a patient smile. Once satisfied they were ready, she waved to the back of the salon and said something in German. Aoba could only pick out a couple words or phrases, but among them, one word caught his attention: _niedlich_.

 _Niedlich._ She called them _cute_. _A cute couple._  
A deep, hot blush began to form on his cheeks.

Before he could wither away from embarrassment, two girls— one black haired, one blonde— appeared from the back of the salon. The blond one was telling some joke, and the other girl laughed along, cracking a joke of her own. They both emanated that same air of prestige that the rest of the salon did, looked like they could walk right into a modernist art show and fit right into place.

The dark haired girl focused her gaze at Aoba, greeting with a polite smile. She... _bowed_ slightly, which only heightened Aoba's nerves. Was she making fun of him? But...she didn't appear to be a native German, either, why would she make fun of him...

“If you would please follow me, Mr. Seragaki,” she said, turning back on her heel and disappearing from sight.

… Japanese? She spoke Japanese?  
Confused, Aoba turned around towards Noiz. He was wearing a proud half-smile and looking pleased with himself.

First bowing, now Japanese… this was intentional. That time when Noiz was searching through sites and wouldn’t let him look— Aoba guessed— he he was finding someone who spoke Japanese, to give him peace of mind. To not have to worry about trying to speak in German while he got his hair cut.

For that, he was truly grateful. Noiz’s love shone through in small gestures, in the tiny ways he wanted to give Aoba comfort at all times.  
Before turning to follow his stylist, he returned the small smile, relaying a silent thank you.

While following after the girl into the large, spacious salon, he glanced behind him to see where Noiz was heading— it seemed his stylist was on the other far end of the room. Crestfallen, Aoba but couldn’t help but be mildly disappointed… or mildly on edge, either.  
Try to make the most of it, he told himself. At least it would be a big surprise for the two of them, when they first got to see each other.

His stylist sat him down in a pleather chair and wound a plastic sheet around his neck. He remembered seeing something like this when he passed by Koujaku on the job—it was supposed to catch falling hair or something, Aoba never understood the point of it. But for him it felt like the physical form of his anxiety, wrapping its hands round his neck.

His nerves made him aware of every single little thing— the sharp sound of the pleather as he moved, the collection of menacing-looking brushes and scissors aligned neatly on the stylist’s desk...  
And his reflection in the mirror, eyes wide and face as pale as a ghost.

He betrayed himself: he was supposed to be courageous now, but all his reflection showed was complete and utter fear. How pitiful. If all his focus wasn't on staying positive, he would have felt like laughing.

The girl, who had been lost in her own world while prepping her work station, suddenly gasped, like she just remembered Aoba was there.

“Ah, I forgot to introduce myself!” the girl said with a laugh. She met eyes with Aoba in the mirror and grinned. “My name is Yumi. You’re Aoba, right? That’s a nice name.”  
“Ah, thank you…” he said, trying to pull off a convincing smile. “Yumi is a nice name, too.”

“Is it? I always thought it sounded too childish. But oh well!” Yumi laughed.  
She held a hand out near Aoba’s hair, pulling back at the last second. “Ah… you don’t mind me touching it, do you?”  
Aoba nodded. “It’s fine.”  
He had to keep himself still at the first contact; he still wasn’t used to having his hair touched by anyone other than himself or Noiz. With time, he had learned to overcome the terror of others touching his hair. Nobody could inflict harm on him anymore, just a wave of surprise. He just had to wade out the anticipation of pain.

After the initial shock wore off, he didn’t mind it all that much and had actually started to feel… pleasant. Or at least, not as bad as he had set it up in his mind. In fear, he imagined that the pain in his hair would miraculously return as soon as he sat down, and that every little touch, brush, or cut would feel like bringing a torch to nerves. But her hands were skilled as she weaved through his locks of hair, portioning them off and untangling them.

“Your hair is so nice, so long too. And naturally blue, _wow_ , I didn’t even know that was possible…” Yumi muttered to herself, then blinked and realized herself, setting foot back in reality. “Oh! So… what exactly are we doing today?”  
“Well, uh…” Aoba swallowed down a hard lump in his throat. The nerves came running back at full force, relentlessly barraging him. But he had to power through. “Cutting it, to around here.”

He gestured by lifting a hand, bringing it up to his chin. Yumi momentarily pursed her lips while in thought, nodding.  
“Yeah, alright! I can definitely do that! I can add a bunch of layers into it too to make it _pop_. That’ll look really good, it will compliment your eyes… and your face shape.”

She reached over Aoba and grabbed a spray bottle of water, holding it one hand while holding a brush in the other. Working gently, she sprayed his hair down and brushed it through the entirety of his hair.

Abruptly, she stopped mid-brush, sighing. She pulled away, brows drawn together with concern.  
“Are you alright, Aoba? You look really nervous.”  
“Aha, is it that obvious?” He laughed pettily. “Well… a little.”  
“Have you never had it cut this short before?”  
“No… whenever I needed one, I did it myself.”

“Well you’re in good hands here.” She grinned. “I’ve gotten a couple other people before who haven’t gotten their hair cut in a while. They’re always nervous right before, but by the time I’m done you won’t even remember why you were nervous. And that’s a promise.”

She set down the bottle and brush, and rooted around her array of scissors for the right pair. She pinned up the shorter sections of Aoba’s hair, leaving long pieces to hang around his face.

Yumi grabbed a section with her fingers, divvying it out into smaller portions. Then stopped, yet again. Her teeth bit into her lower lip as she circled around Aoba’s chair, looking him directly in the eyes with a look of apprehension.  
“Alright… from this moment on there’s no going back. Are you _sure_ you’re okay with this?”  
“Uh…” Something inside him told him to say no, _wanted_ him to say no, but he wouldn’t listen.

He straightened up a little and nodded. As ready as he’d ever be.

Yumi nodded back and circulated around him again. “Just think about something pleasant. Trust me, it’s a lot less scary than you think it is.”  
Silver glistened in his line of vision, then cool metal skimmed against the side of his neck. Aoba held his breath in anticipation, flitting pleasant images in his head rather than focusing on what was about to happen: Noiz’s smile, laughing with Koujaku and Mizuki, how adorable Ren looked in sleep mode… something, anything to put his mind off of what was about to—

 _Snip_.

The first cut startled him. The sharp sound wasn’t unfamiliar, but he had never heard it so close to his ears, and definitely not when someone else was holding the scissors. It took all his strength to not pull away, to not flinch and mess up what Yumi was doing.  
Instead, he simply closed his eyes and focused on breathing. He would not focus on the sound and he would not scare himself over it.  
_It will all be okay._ _  
_

Uncomfortable silence spanned on for minutes, with Yumi carefully cutting long pieces of hair away and Aoba sitting with his eyes and fists clenched.

Yumi sighed under her breath. “So… how long have you been living in Germany?”  
Aoba opened one eye and looked at her, she was smiling at him sympathetically, carefully trying to coax him out of his shell.

“I moved here a couple years ago,” he replied timidly. Then a pause. “Ah… w-what about you? It’s… it’s not very usual to find people who speak Japanese.”  
“I was born and raised here.” She cut off a bigger chunk of hair, wincing at the same time Aoba did. “My mother is from Japan, so we speak both German and Japanese. Do you know any German?”  
“I’ve… I’m studying. I still have a lot to learn.”  
“Haha, yeah. German is a lot different than Japanese, isn’t it?”

The conversation dropped dead. Yet again.

But Yumi was resilient.  
“That man that you were with requested someone who can speak Japanese, and all salons he contacted referred to me!” She laughed, fingers weaving through whatever remained of Aoba’s long hair.  
“He must really care, to go to such lengths.”

Aoba paused at that, breath catching in his throat. She was right—Noiz cared so much about putting Aoba at ease that he took the time to find a stylist who spoke Japanese. He did that for _him_ because he wanted to make it as pleasant of an experience as possible.  
A resurgence of love made his heart drum, made a faint smile blossom on his lips.

“Yeah, he’s like that. He cares a lot.” He couldn't help from grinning. “I don’t think I would be here right now if it wasn’t for him.”  
“Well, it’s a good thing he went through all that trouble, huh?” Yumi snickered, adding poignancy to her words while trimming off a portion of hair.

The rest of Aoba’s haircut went by soundly; the snipping didn’t bother him as much the longer he grew accustomed to it. When the scissors got too close to his skin, he still felt tense, but he didn’t work himself up over it. He felt tufts of hair falling off in large chunks, felt them as they brushed against his cheeks as a final farewell, but he didn’t mind it. Their idle conversation was engaging enough that his fears were pushed into a far corner of his mind.  
It almost came as a surprise when Yumi told him that she was done cutting and styling.

Only _then_ it hit him, suddenly and all at once. His hair felt like it was hardly even there—it felt _so short._ His head felt so much lighter now that he didn’t have as much weight pinning it down.He could feel the breeze from the air conditioner overhead as it moved against the bare nape of his neck. That felt weird.  
He felt the curtain around his neck come free, and a sudden warm gust of air from a hair drier brushing away all the excess scraps of hair.

“Alright… are you ready to see it?” Yumi asked, startling Aoba out of his trance. He nodded.  
With a deep breath, Aoba opened his eyes, blinked, and stared at his reflection.

His hair was… short. Just slightly longer than his jawline, layers licking his face likes cascades of feathers, delicate and shimmering in the bright light.

“Whoa.” He leaned forward to get a closer look at his hair. “ _Whoa_.”

Carefully he brought a hand to his hair, ruffling through it, feeling the short layers—fingers naturally wanting to run through where his hair had been chopped off.  
He couldn’t stop staring, partially in disbelief and partially in surprise of this being _him_. Despite the initial shock of seeing his hair so short, he liked it. A lot.  
It was different, completely different from what he’d been expecting, but it looked good, it felt good.

Aoba swelled with pride. He had managed to overcome one of his biggest fears—not only cutting his hair, but more than that.

With Noiz’s help— and his longing to play, kiss, and toy with his hair— Aoba had gotten less afraid of having his hair being touched. To the point that he could sit complacently as someone he had never met before touched his hair… even more, as they _cut_ it.  
He proved to himself that there wasn’t anything to worry about, that something as simple as a haircut wasn’t life-or-death.  
Not backing out and not listening to the voices of fear had ended up being an excellent decision.

“Do you like it?” Yumi asked, slowly cleaning up her workspace by sweeping up the abundance of hair on the floor.  
Aoba nodded. “I do. Thank you so much.”  
She grinned, hands resting on her hips as she admired her handiwork. “This may be one of my greatest accomplishments yet! It looks great on you.”

Aoba pondered—would Noiz think the same thing? Where had he gone, anyway? He was excited to see what his haircut looked like, too.

He twisted the chair around, eyes searching around the salon. From the corner of his reflection, he saw a familiar figure approaching them, walking with his hands in his pockets and eyes set on Aoba. It was Noiz.  
And as he moved in closer, Aoba realized…

“Whoa, Noiz...” left his mouth before he even realized it, before he realized that his heart had started to pound heavily in his chest, drumming resonating loud enough to reach his ears.  
The sides of his hair were cropped short and close to his scalp, while the hair on top was layered short, pushed forwards so it fell over his forehead and left the sides bare. An undercut, just like he had said Noiz would look good with. And was he _right_.  
Aoba was accustomed to seeing Noiz with his hair as a meticulous mess, all fluffy and sticking up in every what way.

But with his hair like this… he looked _stunning_. No, more than that… he looked like he could be a model, with the grace in his walk and the slight upturn of his lips and the piercing green of his eyes.  
Aoba lost his voice and his breath, and could only _stare_.

As Noiz approached closer, his face drew into the same sort of awe, mouth hanging agape as he stared at Aoba back.  
And they continued to stare at one another, entranced, for several moments, taking in the sight of their lover’s new look. It was like falling in love all over again, all of the same twitterpated and flustered bubbling nerves.

Aoba laughed meekly out of habit and massaged his neck—his _completely bare_ neck.  
“So…” he began, eyes darting away to the side. “What do you think?”

“…It’s so short,” Noiz said plainly, though his tone sounded amazed and stunned. A hand reached out to touch the short layers. He curled whatever he could manage around his index finger and stroked it with his thumb. “Wow.”  
“I… I know right? It’s so short. I could say the same about you, too.” Aoba rose from his chair to meet Noiz’s height. He ran his hand along the side of Noiz’s scalp—the buzzed area felt weird, almost prickly but comfortable. Soft and pleasant to the touch. “Your hair looks really good like this. It’s really handsome.”  
Noiz cocked a brow, gratifying Aoba with a small romantic smile. “You think so? Well, I think you look beautiful.”

Aoba gaped and turned beet red, shooting a furtive look to Yumi, then back at Noiz with a look— _she can hear us, you know.  
I know. I don’t care_ , Noiz’s gaze said.

Aoba could only muster an aggravated sigh as he rustled his hands through the top of Noiz’s hair.  
“You idiot,” he said in feigned anger, lips pursed in a pout. “A haircut alone doesn’t make someone more beautiful.”

He said that but… he was lying to himself. Noiz’s haircut really _did_ add a new dimension to his looks; it accentuated the angle of his jaw, the narrowness of his cheekbones, the fox-like shape of his eyes. He looked like a model. _Exactly_ like a model. He felt almost intimidated standing next to him, that he was so inferior in comparison to Noiz’s beauty.  
But Noiz’s expression mirrored his own awe and admiration … was he thinking the same thing? Impossible. Noiz must had to have known how gorgeous he was, it showed in his grin, in light glistening in his eyes, in the way he looked at Aoba. Or was that out of love…?

If Aoba wasn’t as good at restraining his desires, he would have kissed him right then and there. He wanted to tell Noiz how much he loved him, appreciated him, cherished him, but words alone weren’t strong enough. Physical affection only conveyed a small fraction of his love, but it was closer than what words could do.  
But they were in a salon, with eyes all around them, eyes focused _right_ on them. And as much as Noiz had taught him to be less timid about PDA, this was definitely not the right place or time. It would have to wait… until they were out of the salon, at least.

… Which was just as long as his patience could hold out. As soon as they paid and left, Aoba took Noiz’s hand and steered him in the direction of a narrow alleyway.  
“What are you--” was all Noiz could make out before Aoba silenced him with his lips. He grabbed his shoulders and pulled him forward, tongue sweeping along his lower lip to deepen their kiss. He wanted Noiz so much, so much that desperation clawed in his fingertips and burned in his chest. It was dangerous how a simple haircut could affect him this much— it made him realize how lucky he was to fall in love with someone as beautiful as Noiz. He shouldn’t take that for granted.

Aoba broke out of their kiss, sweeping his tongue along his glistening lips. He smirked and pressed a soft peck to the corner of Noiz’s mouth.  
“What am I doing? I’m repaying you, of course,” he said, as simply as fact. “For all that you did… just for me to not be as nervous. You didn’t need to do all that.”  
“It’s nothing, really,” Noiz countered, lips curling into a smile as his arms found their way around Aoba’s waist. “I wanted to make it easier for you. It was worth it, was it not?”

He inched forward, meeting their lips in another kiss. “Really, you look so good. I knew you would look great but you really are… _niedlich_.”  
Aoba’s throat suddenly became dry. Noiz speaking German always flustered him, how the words he had been struggling to pronounce skirted over Noiz’s tongue naturally. He made the sharp consonants and incantations sound melodic and gentle.  
When mixed with Noiz’s dark, sultry tone of want, Aoba’s heart stammered and his feet fell underneath him, dragging him down into the undertow.

Noiz smirked knowingly. “No, not _niedlich_ … _wunderschön._ _Aoba der Schöne._ ”

He unwound an arm around Aoba and took his hand with it instead, bringing it up to his lips. He’d played this act several times before, but still, Aoba’s heart fluttered when he kissed the back of his hand, when his blond eyelashes fluttered open and the iridescent green of his eyes cast upwards at Aoba. He wore a look of stubborn possessiveness, of love, of affection and adoration. That gentle look was reserved for Aoba’s eyes alone.

And with the combination of his husky voice, affectionate gestures, and that _haircut_ that made him look like royalty— Aoba was pulled up into a current, drowning in Noiz.

“Not… fair…” he rasped in weak response, a desperate attempt to come up for air. He lunged forward to exact revenge, taking his boyfriend in another deep kiss, wasting no time before parting his lips open with his tongue. A low chuckle rumbled in the back of Noiz’s throat and he kissed back with the same fervor, returning his hands to Aoba’s hips to steady himself—pushing him in closer to grind their crotches together.

He felt a growing heat welling deep inside his stomach, which grew in strength the deeper they kissed, the more Noiz’s hands roamed around his lower back and sides, feeling muted by thick fabric. His thoughts were muddled in desire and lust, the brief flitting thoughts of people catching them and staring at them not bothering him. If they stare, let them— let them see how gorgeous his boyfriend was, and let them see that he was _his._

The same thoughts took hold of his mind: he wanted Noiz. He wanted Noiz to fully encompass him, in both body and soul… but the limitations, the layers of clothing that inhibited that were growing more painstakingly annoying.  
He broke out of their kiss, jutting out his lip to flick away the line of saliva between their lips.

“I think… we should go home,” Aoba drawled, voice weak and needy, breathing hot and heavy. He didn’t have to say the obvious, but it’d be best to warn him before he tried doing anything too risqué in broad daylight.  
Noiz wouldn’t be one to refute the idea of continuing their act here in this narrow, cramped alleyway and maybe… just maybe, on any other day, Aoba wouldn’t either. But he had to limit himself to just how adventurous he was willing to be in a single day.

Noiz lifted the corner of his lips in a cocky smirk and nodded. He backed away a little to recompose himself, adjusting his tie and accommodating the _situation_ between his thighs. Aoba did the same, shooting a wary glance out to the street to see if people were watching. Thankfully, it seemed to be a lazy and quiet day, so apparently most of their desperate kissing and clawing at each other had gone unnoticed.

Once they were both more presentable, Noiz offered out his hand and Aoba took it graciously. Hand in hand, they hurried back home, eager to resume where they had left off.

*

Keeping their hands to themselves on the way home was no easy task, and only worsened the closer they approached their apartment.

By the time Aoba had pressed the elevator button to their floor, Noiz’s hands were on his body again, toying with the short strands of hair that clung to his cheeks. It was hard to pull him away, to refuse to give in rather than fall to Noiz’s whim… but if he was being honest with himself, he didn’t mind the thought of having sex in an elevator—

The elevator came to an abrupt stop just as that realization dawned on him. He grabbed Noiz's roaming hands and hauled him out, ignoring the growing blush on the tips of his ears.

That the chances of making it to their bedroom were close to none, Aoba noted. It was miraculous that they had even made it home. Noiz made that perfectly clear when he cornered him against the wall, resuming their kiss with the same amount of heated passion.

Aoba closed his eyes and pushed deeper into their kiss, using his tongue to pry Noiz’s lips open. He curled his tongue around Noiz’s and sucked hard, at the same time using his hands to pull at handfuls of his hair. He was rewarded by a moan spilling into his mouth— then, hungrily, Noiz pushed back, aiming to take control of their kiss.  
And Aoba let him, without fuss or fight. Noiz’s hands searched around the front of Aoba’s shirt, finding his nipples underneath the fabric and pinched them carefully. He filled Noiz’s mouth with a soft whimper, quieted by the sound of their mouths together in passion.

To retort, Aoba pushed deeper into their kiss, bringing his teeth together to Noiz’s bottom lip and biting down. Hard. Noiz let out both a sound of pain, and a humored laugh.  
Aoba knew the game they were playing— using each other’s weaknesses to their advantage. Getting sweet revenge for being _too_ sweet. To prove that point, Noiz broke out of their kiss, swiftly licking Aoba’s lips. He darted down to trail his lips along Aoba’s jaw, drag his tongue along the hard line of his chin. He planted wet kisses against his cheekbone and the lobe of his ear, humming in delight at the array of sounds that left Aoba.

He kissed the jutting curve of Aoba’s Adam’s apple and smirked.  
“It’s much easier to reach your neck now,” he noted, proving his point by sweeping his lips down the side of Aoba’s neck. He stopped mid-way, opening his mouth wide, hollowing out his cheeks to suck, hard. A spark of pleasure jolted through Aoba down to his waist, making his cock twitch in excitement.  
Noiz swept his gaze upwards to Aoba’s face and smirked. His hair fell into his eyes, curtaining the lust swirling around in them. He lifted himself up until they were eye-to-eye once more, the tips of their noses brushing against each other. After a quick peck on the lips Noiz spoke in a croon.

“You’re feeling it. All of it, aren’t you? I wonder if not having anything touching your neck has made it more sensitive.”  
His gaze dropped down, to Aoba’s chest. He pulled off the shoulders of his cardigan and brought his hands to the collar of his button-down.  
“Is it the same elsewhere?”

Slowly and mindedly, he loosened button after button, letting his fingers take their time. Aoba helped him wriggle the shirt free, letting it and the cardigan drop in a heap on the floor.

He felt himself grow even hotter as Noiz’s eyes passed over his bare torso, the feeling of being scrutinized making him nervous. What was Noiz thinking about? How many different ways was he thinking about how to do it tonight?  
Or did his haircut make him look too masculine, did Noiz find that unappealing…?

Seeming to read his mind, Noiz filled in the space between them again, pressing a kiss to Aoba’s forehead—no lust, no hunger behind the gesture, just simple, unsullied love.  
“You look beautiful,” he repeated from earlier in the salon. “It suits you so well. I’m glad you went with getting it cut, after all.”

Aoba smiled with relief and stood on his heels to return the gesture. He swiped away Noiz’s bangs and kissed him on both temples while stroking the shaven side of his head.  
“So do you. You look like a model.” Another kiss, this time on the tip of his nose. “I’m happy you decided to get it cut along with me. You are— _ah_! Noiz!”

Noiz seized the opportunity when he wasn’t paying attention to lift Aoba off his feet, nestling him in his arms bridal-style. Something he had said clearly set Noiz off again. Maybe it was the model thing.  
Aoba laughed and wrapped his arms around Noiz’s neck, allowing himself to be carried.

Noiz paused for a brief moment, eyes flitting between the hallway to their bedroom and to the living room, ultimately deciding on the latter of the two choices. Apparently he couldn’t hold out for the couple extra seconds it took to get to their bedroom.  
He set down Aoba on the couch, then clamored atop, eagerly resuming their kiss. He kept a slow, gentle tempo, savoring in the moment as he haphazardly undressed himself. His jacket fell over the side of the couch, his button-down and tie thrown somewhere else.  
They broke out of their kiss to help wrangle each other free from their pants.

Once Aoba had tugged Noiz’s pants down to his knees, a faint throb of excitement pulsed through him— looking down, he could _see_ how hard Noiz was already, from kissing alone. His piercings strained against the fabric of his underwear and a large stain formed on the dark fabric.

Aoba smirked and seized his length, squeezing the fabric and his cock tightly. Noiz groaned and teared his eyes away from Aoba’s trousers up to his face, eyes aglow with want.  
Filled with pride, Aoba chuckled and caressed his thumb against the slit of his dick, playing with the piercing atop.  
“I’ve just barely touched you and you’re already _this_ hard, pervert,” he said in his sultriest voice.  
“Can’t be helped,” Noiz replied. “I want you.”

He swiftly pulled Aoba’s pants and his underwear down at the same time, making him gasp. Their eyes both glanced down to the obvious— he was just as painfully erect, the head flushed and glistening with precum.  
Noiz hummed in the back of his throat. “You’re not any better, mister.”

He wrapped his hand around his cock, caressing the sensitive underside of the head. “Look, I could make you come with just a couple strokes.”  
“Y-You… b-be quiet...”  
“So I can take this as a yes, then? We both clearly want each other.”

Aoba pouted, feeling his face going redder. He attempted shutting up Noiz by pulling down his underwear. Without a moment of hesitation he started pumping his hand in languid movements, squeezing against the piercings. Noiz smirked and did the same back, jerking off Aoba with much less control—seemingly keeping true to his word.

“Ah… N-Noiz… n-not so fast… _ah_ , t-there—” he breathed, basked in too much pleasure at once, confusing his senses. He snapped his eyes shut and moaned helplessly, becoming putty in his lover’s hands. The movements of his hand became shorter, quicker, putting his focus into the places that felt the best.  
Before Aoba could find a chance to catch a reprieve, Noiz drew him to his brink. His toes curled up, he threw his head back and moaned without a care. His vision went white as pleasure floated throughout his entire body.

He remained still for a few moments, panting, head sinking into the couch as he basked in the afterglow.  
A firm squeeze on his lower half caught him by surprise—and, he realized while glancing down at himself, his cock was _still hard_.

“My, my,” Noiz teased, corner of his mouth lifting in a smirk. “Someone’s eager today.”

Aoba wanted to claw away in shame, but even if he tried to move he was pinned in place by Noiz’s arms. Embarrassment took hold of whatever pleasure he was still basking in and crushed it, leaving an unsated ache in its wake.

Then before any real self-loathing seized hold, Noiz’s hand started moving again, albeit much slower than before; working him up rather than rushing him to completion.  
At first, the stimulation was too much, nearly painful, but by Noiz’s skilled hands he’d eventually started moaning again.  
Aoba started moving his hand at the same time, feeling almost bad for forgetting about Noiz’s own need for the sake of his own.

Aoba opened his eyes slowly and glanced down at their cocks: they were so close they practically touched, their hands threatening to bump into each other as they moved.  
An idea flitted through his mind— he arched his hips upwards, meeting their cocks together while his hand wound around both of their length.

“Heh.”  
From above him, Noiz laughed, eagerly following his line of thought by doing the same, rubbing their cocks in unison rather than separately. Their hands moved swiftly, guided along by precum and other spilled fluids.  
Aoba’s bit his lower lip to try to muffle his voice. The pleasure— gradually growing as they moved together— continued growing and threatened to spill over its boiling point again. Noiz’s hand by itself was good, but Noiz’s hand along with his piercings was _amazing_.

Instead of focusing on the feeling, he tried to focus his attention on Noiz’s cock, working him to his brink. He focused on the weak grunts that spilled from Noiz’s lips, each filled with a certain addictive sweetness. Knowing Noiz was feeling it as much as he was filled him with pride, made a strong desire grow inside him that wanted him to feel _more._

But just as he was intent on working to that point, Noiz’s hand dropped and he pulled himself away. Confused, Aoba slowly opened one eye, focusing on his lover’s face—charmingly flushed, heavily panting face.

“Turn over,” Noiz chided, softly kissing Aoba on the lips. He obliged, twisting around on the cramped couch to lie on his stomach.  
Noiz worked free his pants and completely removed them, leaving Aoba entirely naked. Somehow, the room felt much colder than it was earlier. Like before, his long hair had worked as some sort of insulator.

As though they were on the same line of thought, Noiz leaned down and pressed his lips to the nape of his neck. A pleasant shiver ran down his spine from the feeling, and Aoba craned his neck to look at his boyfriend. Just what was he planning…?

Before he could ask, he _knew_. Noiz’s hands wrapped his hips to raise them upwards, ass lifted high up into the air. Noiz knelt down, getting in position between Aoba’s splayed legs.  
He wanted to pull up, conceal himself from such a provocative stance—but before he could do any of that, warm dampness spread over his sensitive skin. He closed his eyes and shivered.

This wasn’t the first time Noiz pulled this maneuver on him, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. But no matter how many times he did this, using his _tongue_ to soften the muscles of his opening, he still couldn’t get over how… lewd the act was.  
That thought was muted when Noiz dragged his tongue against his opening, rubbing the tip against him in slow circles.

And the moan that left Aoba’s lips startled _himself_. Loud, wanton, and needy. His body was better at portraying his wants than any of his thoughts, and forced him to stop thinking when he clearly, _clearly_ enjoyed himself. He closed his eyes tighter and focused on what was happening to his lower half. Noiz’s slow, gentle movements chided him into the pleasure, and Aoba welcomed it eagerly.

Noiz worked slowly, letting Aoba get accustomed to the feeling of his tongue before probing at his muscles to ease them open. As the probing feeling started feeling nice, he noticed the loud, damp sound of tongue against skin (and his own moans, no intention of keeping quiet) less and less. His hands gripped tight onto a pillow to keep himself grounded.

Noiz moved downwards, focusing his attention of the underside of his shaft and his balls, lewdly kneading them with his lips.  
“Does it feel good?” he whispered hotly, his labored breath tantalizing against Aoba’s sensitive skin. Aoba nodded several times over, too worked up to care about embarrassment or second thoughts.

He heard Noiz laugh, then lips caressed the inside of his thigh, kissed it softly. Then brought his teeth, biting softly but firmly—causing Aoba to gasp. At the same time, he ran the tips of his fingers against Aoba’s ass, turning that gasp into a desperate whimper.

Noiz was able to fit an entire finger in without any resistance, thanks to the work his tongue had done at loosening him up. He probed around for a couple strokes, curling his finger upwards against Aoba’s most sensitive region.

The teasing was faint enough that it left Aoba wanting more, _made_ him want to beg for more—but Noiz pulled away just as quickly. A million questions raced through Aoba’s head, like what Noiz had planned next, was he going and getting lube, was he going to enter him when he wasn’t prepped—

A loud snapping sound, like that of a lid opening, pulled him out of his thoughts. He snapped his head around to see what it came from.  
It _was_ lube. But… Noiz hadn’t gone anywhere to get it. He’d been atop Aoba the entire time, how could he have gotten it?

“W-Where… did you get that?” Aoba asked the obvious, eyes intent on the small, clear bottle in his hands, seemingly unopened until just now. He went even redder and narrowed his eyes. “D-Did you have that in your s-suit…”  
“Nope. It was in the couch,” Noiz stated, tone nonchalant. “I kept a bottle in between the cushions, just in case. I had a feeling it would be convenient one day.”

… Aoba didn’t know if he had it in him to be embarrassed, or if he could praise Noiz for his forward-thinking. Either way, he had no words to respond with, both options had an endless stream of words to hiss and jab but they remained stuck on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he simply groaned and dove headfirst into a pillow. Noiz laughed and leaned over him, kissing him on the exposed part of his neck.

“Your neck is so sexy,” Noiz whispered against the shell of his ear. “No… all of you is sexy. It’s just that your hair like this is even sexier.”

Aoba groaned even louder and nudged Noiz in the side with his elbow. He laughed wholeheartedly, his laugh playing like music inside Aoba’s ears. He couldn’t stay agitated at him when _that_ was his gift. Instead, he turned his head to the side, kissing the freshly shaven part of his hair.

“You think I’m sexy, but you’re way sexier,” he murmured. “You’ve got no right.”

Noiz simply hummed in delight. He applied an abundance of lube on his fingers, then poured more around Aoba's opening. The cold was a shock, but Noiz quickly warmed the liquid up with the aid of his slick fingers. When he reached his opening, he plunged two fingers in with little resistance. The feeling of fullness is exactly what Aoba had been craving—his tongue was good, but not enough. One finger was good, but not enough. And this… having his fingers inside him, as his lips kissed and bit his neck and shoulders was good, but _not enough_. He wanted Noiz.

He swore his boyfriend could read his thoughts, because soon afterwards his movements went from slow and mindful to harder, sharper, more intent on stretching him wide than being careful. _Yes._ Yes. This is what Aoba wanted.

Noiz prepped him until he was thoroughly stretched, then, with a small grunt, pulled his fingers out. The emptiness and the coolness of the air on his skin was grating, but Noiz cut through his thoughts with the rustling of his pants, pushing them down around his ankles.

Their eyes met and Noiz smirked, bringing his cock to Aoba’s entrance. He fitted in without any resistance, movements slick and gratifying. The fullness was exactly what Aoba had been waiting for.

Noiz leaned more of his weight onto Aoba, pushing him back down into the couch as he moved in deeper. He buried his face in Aoba’s hair, kissing it lovingly. His movements were slow and even, simply sliding himself in, then pulling out, moving deeper and deeper with every thrust.

He knew what Noiz was thinking—he wanted to cherish this moment, wanted to memorize what Aoba looked like with this hair style, what new things opened up to him…  
But all Aoba could see was fabric. Noiz’s lips were devouring his neck so he couldn’t comfortably crane his neck, watch Noiz as he moved.

He grabbed a lock of Noiz’s hair and tugged on it, drawing his attention. His boyfriend lifted his face, arching an eyebrow.  
“What is it?” he asked. “Are you not feeling it?”

His pace halted abruptly as he snapped his hips in, fitting Aoba to the hilt. He moaned with the sudden volt of overstimulation.

“N-No…” Aoba stammered. “It feels amazing. It’s just…”  
Trying to find the right words felt like grasping at straws. Instead, Aoba rolled onto his back, faced directly in front of each other. In the process, Noiz’s dick slipped out— but Aoba grabbed him, realigned him with his ass.  
“Like this,” he said, offering a faint smile. “I couldn’t see you. I like it this way better.”

Noiz smiled, then nodded. He leaned downwards to kiss him on the lips. “Mmm… yeah. This is much better. I can see your face, too.”  
He wrapped his hand around Aoba’s, wrapped around the length of his dick.  
“And all the expressions you make. No hair hiding anything.”  
Aoba went bright red and covered his face with his free hand. “Y-You… don’t need to say it like th-that.”

“Heh.” Noiz pushed back in slowly, letting his piercings drag along his sensitive walls. Aoba arched his hips upwards, holding his thighs up with his hands. The slight change in angle pushed Noiz deeper inside him, and made the piercings on Noiz’s dick press right against where he felt it most.

After a few short thrusts for good measure, Noiz worked back up into a pace, honing his thrusts where Aoba felt it most. He moaned without a care, rolled his head back and focused all his attention into the feeling, the budding bliss growing deep inside him.

“M-More…” Aoba pleaded, pulling his legs up so he was practically folded in half. Another long, strewn out moan. “H-Harder…”

And Noiz gave him what he wanted. He wrapped his arms around Aoba’s thighs, too, wrapping them over his shoulders. He moved harder, faster, aiming all his thrusts to where Aoba felt it most. He let out a cry and arched his hips forwards, moving in time with Noiz’s movements.

The pleasure he felt was incredible—his entire body was basked in exhaustion from coming once already, but Noiz kept leading him closer and closer to another peak. Every perfectly aimed movement shot sweet numbness from his hips to every extremity of his body. He felt like he was melting in a combination of ardor and heat.  
He wanted to latch onto this feeling, project it onto his boyfriend and intensify if tenfold for him. The soft grunts and open-mouthed moans coming from above were like music to his ears, and knowing that Noiz was feeling just as much of the pleasure as he was—they were sharing this together, they were sharing their bodies with one another, sharing immeasurable pleasure in this dance.

Aoba wanted to see the look on Noiz’s face, wanted to know what he looked like. He fought against the desire to keep his eyes clenched and stared up—Noiz was arched over him, skin glistening, teeth grit together tight as they always did when he was about to reach his limit. His eyes were hazy and feverish, yet boring into Aoba with the same intensity as his sober stare. His ragged breaths were warm against his skin, tantalizing… and his hair, long locks falling into his face, made him look like nobility who had lost his composure.

Caught in the heat of the moment, Aoba clasped his hands to Noiz’s cheeks and pulled him in to a deep kiss. They filled each other’s mouths with moans doubling, tripling intensity. All it took then was one right thrust and Aoba hit his limit, cumming hard, drowning all his senses in pleasure.

At almost the exact same time, he felt Noiz’s movements stagger and become more fervent, filling Aoba’s mouth with a deep groan as he came at the same time.

With lungs screaming, Aoba pulled out of their kiss, panting. He sank back into the couch, exhaustion hitting him as soon as his entire body relaxed. Noiz sank atop him, burying his face into the side of Aoba’s neck. There they remained, panting, basking in the bliss of pleasure.

When Noiz pulled out, he felt something warm running down his legs. But he didn’t mind. For now, it was fine. He was too exhausted to do anything about it, to worry about staining the couch, cleaning himself up, or from moving from this perfect scene.

As they fell off their high, Aoba lovingly ran his hands over Noiz’s body, across his upper back, his shoulders, neck and his new head of hair.

“Your hair really is nice like this,” Aoba said, running his hands through the top once more. He loved the feel of it against his fingers, reveled in how _soft_ it was. Noiz closed his eyes, expression blissful. He must have enjoyed the feel of being pet. _Cute_.

“Were you nervous at all?” Aoba didn’t know where the thought came from, but he figured it must have been somewhat of a challenge for his boyfriend, as well. Noiz sat up a little, folding his arms over Aoba’s chest to rest his chin between them.  
“Honestly, a little. But nothing compared to you.” He brushed his hand through the ends of Aoba’s hair once more. “I wasn’t sure if you were going to go through with this.”  
“I’m glad I did. It feels nice to have it short.”  
“When it grows out, are you going to cut it again?”

Aoba pursed his lips in thought. He hadn’t really considered that part yet—at least, not to any extent. “I’m not sure yet… I’ll just have to wait and see, huh? But I’m really glad that I tried it. Not for a million years did I think I would ever get it cut.”

He pressed a soft kiss to the corner of Noiz’s lips. “Again, thank you… for doing all that you did.”  
“It’s nothing really,” Noiz said with a shrug. “I knew you were nervous about it, so I wanted to make it easier for you. That’s all.”

He knew he wasn’t stretching the truth. If there was something he could do to make Aoba happy, Noiz wouldn’t bat an eye to do it. At times it was overwhelming, but Aoba appreciated it nonetheless. Noiz was a sweet, thoughtful young man who wanted the best for those he loved.

Aoba didn’t know how he had gotten so lucky. Never in a million years did he imagine that the brash and impulsive brat whose life he forced his way into, would be the man that he’d cherish with all his heart. That _that_ brat would end up becoming this handsome man that he awoke to every morning. How much difference time made was astounding.

No matter the differences—be it country they lived in, be it style of their hair, be it anything—  
No matter the differences, he loved Noiz with all his heart.

Though all the different things that they experienced together, that similar love would remain unchanged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick rundown on the German words according to some checking around on the internet, which never ever lies ever (of course, if anything is wrong please do tell):  
> Niedlich: cute / Wunderschön: beautiful / Aoba der Schöne: Aoba the beautiful
> 
> Another big thank you to Lauren for being my beta.  
> And a big thank you for reading! I never expected this fic to get so long, but I'm really happy with the end result. I hope that you ended up enjoying it as much as I have. ♡


End file.
